Serendipity
by Keasbey Nights
Summary: In The World, secrets are dangerous, especially when unearthed. Kite, BlackRose, and the rest of the .hackers emerge from their battles with Morganna only to fall prey to a series of traps triggered by Mia's sudden disappearance...
1. The Encroaching Shadows

"We have validated your application," the omnipresent voice said tonelessly in the blackness, and Balmung summoned the necessary amount of self-control in order not to flinch in intimidation. The voice (although lacking much by way of personality) had a sort of authoritative sense—fitting, he realized with a grimace, _considering_ it was the voice of the collective System.

Dimly, the winged swordsman pondered how long it would've taken him to make _that_ particular conclusion under different circumstances. His intelligence was declining somehow, and he found the prospect of blaming Kite and company somewhat amusing.

He realized the silence was carrying onward—a sort of gloomy thing in the "conference room"—and spoke, burying his underlying defiance beneath calculated restraint. "And?" he ventured, noting with disdain that defiance wasn't the only thing he was forcibly keeping from his monotone. The taste in the back of his throat was vile and brittle, but he refused to swallow.

The shadows, he hypothesized, had eyes.

"Congratulations," the System announced in a cold attempt at an amicable manner, "you're hired."

Balmung exhaled sharply through his nostrils, barely managing to keep the gesture quiet.

A pause, and then, "We will resume discussion later concerning schedules, regulations, penalties, and so forth." His wings ruffled slightly in response, and the voice hummed—almost scoffed—signifying the System's acknowledgement of his dismissive gesture. "You will also be expected to attend work at the corporation itself, not just in the game."

"I know _that_," Balmung said with a derisive snort. There was another pause, and the Blademaster wondered if he'd crossed a line; the notion was set aside and he reluctantly chose to discern it as dubiousness. The System made him uneasy, and again he second-guessed his true motives for being here and asking for a job from the corporation that continually damned his comrades. Lios said that the System rendered the .hackers harbingers of destruction and on the same ranks as Morganna herself in terms of nefarious intent.

He grimaced upon recalling that he possessed the same mindset once upon a time. If the System saw it, the voice did not comment.

"One last thing before you are dismissed."

He froze, armor clinking as his arms shifted stiffly at his sides. "Yes?" he grunted, finding it hard to do so. He hadn't realized his breath had long since hitched in his throat.

"You are in possession of the member address of the Twin Blade Kite and the Heavy Blade BlackRose?"

Somehow, his disappointment was not as profound as it should have been; in fact, his employment was preferable for the System, and they would pretend to act as though he was worth more than a simple source of inside information. Balmung wondered why and how the company could be so tainted, and why it was so bizarre that alleged "warriors" such as he could do nothing about it. For someone who crammed the definition of justice down peoples' throats, Balmung was irrationally powerless…and perhaps rationally afraid.

He answered the only way he knew how: honestly. "I am," he said just as flatly, reflecting upon BlackRose's angered realization of the System's advantageous position.

"…You are dismissed. Congratulations again, System Administrator Balmung of the Azure Sky."

"…Thank you."

His courtesy was strained as he vanished in ringlets of gold.

As he Gated Out, he briefly contemplated the reason as to why he allowed himself to be _used_ like this. He also wondered if his strict morals only applied to here—where his shimmering armor belied just how much damage he was capable of handling, and where his sword spoke volumes more than his word.

He briefly contemplated the reason as to why he was hailed as a hero…when Kite was branded as nothing more than a heretic.

**Serendipity  
Part 1 – The Encroaching Shadows**

_Discomfort endlessly has pulled itself upon me  
Distracting; reacting  
Against my will I stand beside my own reflection  
It's haunting how I can't seem  
To find myself again  
My walls are closing in_  
Crawling – Linkin Park

BlackRose's reflection was immaculate from the edge of her sword; her fingers curled around the thin excuse for a hilt and tilted the weapon this way and that. She eyed with no small amount of distaste the way the raindrops fragmented the reflection of her face; her drenched pink hair no longer framed her face, instead dangling limply past her shoulders. The ends simply refused to curl upward in their sharp, jagged manner, and she realized just how uneven it was, and with a frown narrowing her field of vision she silently cursed the rain.

"You're a lot of things," came the gruff voice of Sanjuro from somewhere ahead, and she looked up, realizing that she had been entranced by the mirror and that her comrades had continued on their merry way, "but I didn't think _vain_ was one of them."

There was a twinkle in his one visible eye. She snorted, ensuring the gesture was loud enough to express her disdain. "Shut up."

Kite was silent, observing the exchange.

She continued speaking whilst pacing towards Sanjuro, still frowning. "Damn rain," she grumbled. "It's messing up my—…" She glowered a challenge at the samurai, whose shoulders were quivering in silent laughter. "Oh, shut up!" she snapped. "I'm just not used to it like this!" Her sword vanished in her hands as she wrung them to prove her point, but the blade reappeared as she completed the gesture.

He grinned and mussed the wet strands, splaying his palm on her head and laughing as she made weak attempts to bat it off.

She pulled away and trotted to Kite. Kite's gently solemn expression caused the amicable glint in her eyes to fade, and concern overtook her features. "Kite?"

She'd seen that face before, shadowed by his pale blue bangs, an absence of direct light, and…something else she couldn't quite place. She found herself immersed in a momentary flashback about the past few months, post-Morganna and mostly lacking in Data Bugs (with the exception of the sporadic cleanup job). Helba, a woman who she once found intimidating, had showered them with gifts and praise; Lios, she heard, had offered to make her mythological Net Slum a public area, and she politely declined (though the .hackers often gossiped about her secret mortification at the idea). The administrator had often acted as a buffer between the System and Kite's party; thanks to him, the commotion concerning a certain group of legendary heroes died down to a dull roar.

Mistral had returned. BlackRose faintly recalled that the Wavemaster—who had become an irreplaceable sort of motherly figure in her life—had dragged her out one day and outright _demanded_ she help think of names for the baby. At that time, the Heavy Blade had had no idea she was with child at all, and after getting over her initial dumbstruck reaction, the two had compromised on either Mireille or Mireiyu—not very different by way of pronunciation, but still.

The more timid of her magic-utilizing friends, Elk, had assumed the personal responsibility of helping Mia recover her memories and, of course, create some new ones. He hadn't yet confessed his deeper feelings for her, as many of them (including BlackRose) had assumed, but he was content with their almost-but-not-quite neighborly existence. Though the Heavy Blade had made it a mental note to one day give either of them a push in the right direction, she was happy if they were happy.

A celebration had been held in honor of their victory. Net Slum was a refuge for the illicit; the grim, sordid look of a city in ruins provided a kind of warped atmosphere for a party. The amount of NPCs and disguised characters made it difficult to discern just who or what you were dancing with, but it was one of her fondest memories.

After the music had slowed substantially and the balance between dancing and socializing was more easily maintained, Nuke and Marlo had taken it upon themselves to order some premium brand The World alcohol, straight from the database. Sora had joined in shortly thereafter, and the trio successfully masqueraded as a pair of giggly, tipsy drunks; though it was insanely gratifying when Nuke was almost throttled for falling unceremoniously into an unhappy Gardenia's lap, perhaps the highlight of her evening was dragging the idly-standing Balmung of the Azure Sky onto the dance floor. She'd practically had to drag him by his white hair, but she'd managed the impossible. And he wasn't _that_ bad at it, but the knight appeared more suited to a waltz or something of the sort rather than spunky and fast-paced techno music.

She forced herself back to reality, ruby eyes scrutinizing him carefully; he blinked, not knowing what else to do. Doing her best to be unassuming, BlackRose smiled warmly at him and draped her arm over his shoulders, glancing backwards at Sanjuro. Sanjuro merely shrugged, a slight smile curling the edge of his thin lips, and he remained a little ways behind even then as they continued to walk in silence. She found the prospect of entering the dungeon suddenly increasingly uncomfortable, but when she thought to withdraw her hand, his palm suddenly covered hers.

BlackRose looked at him, but he had made an obvious effort to hide his expression, tilting his cap to the side—though not because of the rain.

She smiled more gently this time, and compliantly Sanjuro began reciting an excuse to leave.

Alas, the moment was cut short by a little note appearing above the trio's heads; the digital slip of paper somehow deformed the natural surrealism of the eternally raining area, and they opened the message simultaneously, eyes unfocused as the contents were recited in a grim voice.

The recording belonged to Gardenia.

"You three," she said grimly, "we've got a problem."

The party looked at one another, and Kite was the first to respond. "What is it?"

Gardenia's voice was dull, and yet there was a sort of underlying distress. "It's Mia. She's missing."

The implications were far more severe than they sounded. Mia was usually online every hour of the day due to certain reasons; she slept in The World, she ate and drank in The World—The World was _her_ world, and she was practically incapable of logging out. The hacker Helba created a sort of home for Mia in the Net Slum—a house, furnished to her liking with direct access to the realism database (containing hideout furnishings and so forth that would usually be obscenely rare or expensive).

"Missing?" BlackRose echoed incredulously. "Missing—how—since when?"

"It had to have happened some time last night. She was with Elk until he logged out. He doesn't know anything else aside from that."

BlackRose's heart skipped a beat, and her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides until a sword materialized in her hands, and upon reflection she didn't know if she consciously took it out of her inventory.

Sanjuro frowned. "Where are you?"

"Mia's hideout, Net Slum. Elk has begun the search. We may require Helba's assistance later on." The statement of the last part owed to the fact that the infamous hacker would only respond to summons issued by Kite, BlackRose, and on occasion Balmung. "That is all. Although Terajima, Marlo, Orca, and Natsume are offline, please report to the hideout nonetheless."

"How's the kid?" Sanjuro grunted, expression resolute.

Pause. "He is…searching. He is particularly distraught…and it's not difficult to understand why." Another pause, and then a resigned sigh. "Report to the hideout."

The transmission ended, and BlackRose drew her bottom lip between her teeth as she Gated Out.

* * *

The playing cards Nuke was shuffling were intricately designed, with a rather expensive-looking sword etched on the backs; the kanji boldly recited the term "Key of the Twilight," but he paid it little heed as he prepared for another round of Solitaire. He stole a glance at Rachel, who busied herself with threading her fingers through her brown hair; she was particularly antsy. She only did that when she was nervous. Admittedly, she, Elk, and Mia hadn't been all that close, but they were friends nonetheless…

Nuke had damn good intuition, and he suspected it branched off of his eternally good mood and his willingness to maintain it. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but something—_something_ didn't feel right. He was antsy—so unlike him—owing to Mia's disappearance, but he suspected a deeper plot.

…Then again, it was _always_ a deeper plot…

He smiled to himself as he placed a last card face-up in a column. The game was set—and he hesitated at that thought, touching the tips of his index fingers together. He looked at Gardenia, who sat in a rather extravagant chair in a rather lonesome corner; she met his gaze and frowned. He grinned weakly in return.

The first to enter the door was a disgruntled Descendant of Fianna; his armor shifted as he turned to shoot the inhabitants of the hideout a _look_. He walked to a chair and eased himself into it, armor (and general appearance) spick and span…though when he sat, it sort of clanged together in a way that reminded Nuke of a person kicking a tin can.

…Or aluminum. Nuke wasn't picky.

He set aside an Ace of Spades, plopping a Two atop it with a self-satisfied smile. "There we go," he commented quietly to himself upon turning over a facedown card. His hands were moving more quickly now, and his purplish-blue eyes darted from card to card. The entertainment business, he had decided a while ago, required versatility; though he considered comedy his specialty, within days of picking up an encyclopedia of card tricks he could probably pull cards from his nostrils if so inclined. With a flourish, he drew the last King of Hearts and slapped it onto the leftmost pile.

Nuke chuckled in a manner most considered slightly maniacal and gathered the deck for shuffling. _Stylish_ shuffling.

Unfortunately, his talents went unappreciated. "Nuke," Rachel said testily, still preening her longish hair, "cut it out. Now is _not_ the time to be playing games."

He gave her a scathing look. "Are you suggesting I log out?" he asked incredulously. "What'll poor Elky think? How far into the dark pit of depression will he fall without the smiling guidance of one such as myself?" Rachel opened her mouth for a snappy retort, but he held a hand up to silence her. "I'm shocked and appalled, Rachel. To derive a boy of laughter is so beneath you."

Rachel practically growled her exasperation. "Alright, Nuke," she said through gritted teeth, fingers twitching at her sides. "How many cards are in that deck?"

"Umm…well, excluding the jokers, 50. Why?"

"Let's play a game." The yellow-clad Blademaster stalked over to Nuke and crouched downward, snatching the deck from his hands.

"Hey!" he protested.

"It's called 52 pickup!!" she yelled, flinging the cards into the air. The cards scattered across the hideout in various directions, and a particularly large amount had landed on Balmung.

The white-haired man blinked and sighed heavily, pulling a card out from between the feathers of his curled and somewhat withdrawn wings. "How did I know _that_ would happen…?" he grumbled, absentmindedly brushing off his blue-bandaged arm.

Rachel opened her mouth to reprimand Nuke in that businesslike way of hers, but the door swung open; Nuke, who looked predominantly disinterested in whatever she had to say, took the liberty of snapping his fingers and causing the cards to disappear in a surge of blue sparks. He smiled good-naturedly, if not somewhat weakly, directing a two-fingered salute at Kite, BlackRose, and Sanjuro. Balmung stood at once, almost causing the chair behind him to topple over; his usually stern demeanor seemed somehow strained. Naturally, Nuke commented.

"You look like you're about to either scream or vomit. What's it gonna be, champ?"

"Nuke!" Rachel and BlackRose exclaimed at the same time, though BlackRose's was more chastising and Rachel's was more…threatening.

The paler-than-usual paladin tactfully ignored the clownish Long Arm and stalked to Kite, lips pressed into a thin line. "Kite…BlackRose," he added as an afterthought. "I know there are other things to worry about, but I need to talk to you two."

BlackRose raised a delicate pink brow. "This is about something other than Mia and/or Elk?" she asked, somewhat suspiciously. He nodded, and she paused before nodding as well. Sanjuro walked in. Kite, BlackRose, and Balmung walked out.

Silence. Nuke sighed and looked at a finely detailed "photograph" of Mia, Elk, Tsukasa, and Subaru, perched neatly on a nightstand. The ebon nightstand sat beside a dark green bed with a crème-colored canopy; the bed was fairly circular and rather large in diameter. _Something fit for a cat…_ He chuckled at his own thoughts, and the inhabitants of the room shot him a glance.

Nuke drew his knees to his chest. "The game is set," he said quietly, closing his eyes in an uncharacteristic display of seriousness. His smile was grim once more.

His comrades answered by maintaining their silence.__


	2. Treading Softly

Mia could see perfectly in the darkness, by all means. Her eyes flew open, though heavy as lead, the pupils contracting before expanding to adjust to the black that obtrusively clouded her vision. Normally, once she performed this little action, things—anything—would become blaringly outlined by light; night became day (though the sky would be less blue than gray), silhouettes became harmless and low-detail reflections of objects. Her heightened senses were that of a predator's rather than just an AI, and that made her a better swordswoman than most (if not everyone else).

There was nothing.

Was she blind? Panic quickly dulled her thought process, and she summoned the strength in her legs to stand; her knees almost buckled beneath her, and she raised a shaking forearm to eye level. No, she wasn't blind. She idly fiddled with the gauntlet whilst her eyes strained in the darkness.

She found herself groping aimlessly in the darkness, walking here and there and mildly surprised to discover solid ground beneath her feet, allowing the pads of her now-uncovered fingers to daintily test the air, feel for any wayward objects she couldn't quite place. She kept her golden eyes unfocused, schooling her features into a mask of calm control, contradicting the turmoil and panic that quickened her pulse and her breathing. She ignored the way her ears twitched, listening to the chorus of discomforting whispers of what-ifs and dangers-of, because she knew well the trickery of the mind.

Mia also knew well the taste of fear when it lingered in the back of her throat.

She stopped moving and hunched over, cradling her body with her arms to the best of her ability. Her feet stumbled, and in a rare moment of inelegance, Mia was sent careening onto a floor she couldn't see.

She lay still for a long moment, in awe of her helplessness.

"Elk…?" she whispered softly into the black, her small, pink tongue flitting to the side of her face to catch a salty tear.

_Am I crying…?_

For not the first or last time, she felt the pull of a separate entity within her: a carnal urge informing her that the cause of her predicament would pay in blood. The urge carried a sense of familiarity, as if she had once allowed it to consume her in a state of desperation and unbearable pain; at the same time, she felt alienated from it as though it were merely a memory from a dream. Her tail curled around her knees, and then uncurled as her glove—the one she had removed—appeared and was pulled over her hand. Her sword materialized, and she picked it up, resisting the urge to swing it experimentally and instead propping it on her shoulder. She walked onward, exploring the unfamiliar and featureless territory.

She was in a prison; a purposefully secluded world, a world where the air was oft flooded with the sound of screams, and the floors (though invisible at the moment) were splattered with the brownish-red color that belonged solely to dried blood. Yet, unlike the others, she had yet to echo those screams; her limbs were still energized and her eyes were still open, and she was levelheaded enough not to allow the pitch-black to siphon her sanity. She didn't know this place. She didn't know if its purpose was for good or for evil, but she was willing to bet the latter.

Mia's violet fur was slightly damp with perspiration, though she did not recall ever physically exerting herself. The silence was pregnant. She couldn't care less.

Her _real_ memories as to where she was and how she got here were like evasive phantoms.

Her thoughts drifted, and as the visage of her dearest friend suddenly etched itself unto the "walls," Mia wondered if her feline body could house a soul, when it had enough difficulty discerning the matters of the heart.

**Serendipity  
Part 2 – Treading Softly**

_There's something green that's leaving town  
Always thought it was blue; always knew I was wrong  
Where it goes, hell knows  
Maybe somewhere better than here  
And what they say of the grass on the other side's true  
Too much time looking up's turning everything blue  
Including me…including you  
Including you  
_Trucks and Trains – Alkaline Trio

"What!?" BlackRose shrieked, instinctively thrusting her arms at Balmung to shove him backwards a substantial amount of space. However, she didn't relent then, and Balmung grunted his discomfort as she continued to push him backwards. "Are—you—_insane_!? CC—Corporation—is—out—to—_kill_—us!" she screamed in escalating volume, pushing him farther with every word. "I _told_ you this would happen! Couldn't _just_ let our main source of inside information be _Lios_, could you? No—! You had to get a _job_ there!"

Kite was torn between amusement and mortification.

As the Heavy Blade retracted her arms for another good shove into the dirt, Balmung caught her wrists with a relative amount of ease.

Her left eyelid was twitching.

He sighed, launching into a regretful explanation.

"I know," he began, hesitating before sighing again and relinquishing his grip on one of BlackRose's forearms to massage his ivory forehead, "that eventually, I will be drilled for information. I know that they know that I am in possession of your member addresses…"

Kite approached, wrenching BlackRose's wrists out from Balmung's steely grip and loosely intertwining his fingers with hers. The action seemed to calm her only slightly, if at all, but her expression faded from anger to resignation as she studied the Azure Sky's lavender eyes. He hesitated again, looking the epitome of discomfort, as she silently willed him to meet her lingering stare; he refused and dismissed the challenge and looked sideways, much to the swordswoman's chagrin. She didn't comment, though, because Kite had opened his mouth to speak at last.

"I'm not worried about the fact that you got a job," he said slowly, almost as if the idea was just dawning on him, "at CC Corporation." He paused, as if drawing confidence—and perhaps even trust—from the words. "I don't think you would…willingly…'betray' us. Me. Whoever. I trust you."

The Twin Blade seemed to dwell on his words, before nodding in acceptance and smiling halfheartedly at the paladin before nodding briefly at BlackRose, then spinning on his heel and trotting back towards the hideout. BlackRose lingered, maneuvering in front of Balmung, burgundy eyes weighted with both concern and antipathy—two emotions that only she could mix in their entirety. His shoulders slumped and he fought the instinct to glare at her. She pressed her palm to the metal plate on his shoulder, and his left foot shifted backwards, preparing for yet another push, but it simply remained there; he knew it wasn't meant to be a comforting gesture, but all the same his armor was a thin barrier between his skin and her touch.

"Listen, _you_," she said through gritted teeth. "Kite might be a little queasy about the thought of what he might have to do if you do anything _stupid_, but let me tell you now I'm not so squeamish. If you do _anything_ to hurt my friends…" She allowed the threat to hang in the air for a moment. At last, her eyes lost their severity, and she sighed, wrapping her fingers around his wrapped forearm and dragging him towards the hideout entrance. She hesitated at last and turned, placing her hands on her thin waist and cocking a brow. "I don't trust you," she said at last, though her voice expressed her uncertainty.

_I don't trust the System._

Balmung dipped his head in a jerky nod. _I understand._

She didn't seem to.

* * *

The hideout was silent, and Kite felt obscenely uncomfortable with every pair of eyes on him. He knew they were awaiting his command…and the thought, he realized, was unnerving. This was a problem that couldn't be solved by pointing his arm at something and reciting two simple words that automatically labeled him a hero; he found himself belittling his leadership qualities upon realizing that he had none. He felt like tugging at the roots of his cyan hair and asking just what the hell was wrong with these people, and just why they had so much _faith_ in him…

Although no one would blame him for trying, if he failed, if Mia was—he wrapped his arms around himself—incapable of rescue for some reason…he would blame himself.

The .hackers were seated on a sort of stylish, circular dinner table propped on a dark metal stand; the table was meant for four or five at most, more suited for the former than the latter. Sitting down as well, Kite extended his bracelet-arm; in a shower of white-and-black static appeared a tanned velvet-bound Ryu Book, opening automatically to a designated page. The thick, dark lettering seemed somehow out of place on the ancient parchment.

Pause. Kite swallowed as his eyes scanned the page, but Rachel was quicker. "Hey," she observed in a mix of relief and surprise, "Mia's still online!"

Kite stiffened, one of his fingers nearly tearing off the page altogether; his slate-blue eyes grayed faintly. Well, that narrows it down, he thought bitterly. His priorities were in disarray, and his confusion mounted; he struggled to gather his thoughts. What would a leader do…? He hesitated before standing and turning, pressing his index and middle finger on his tattooed cheek. "Elk," he muttered.

"K-Kite?!! Have you seen Mia?" came the desperate, panicked voice, and Kite winced.

"No," he said quietly, and an anguished sound emitted from Elk's throat. "Listen, Elk. We're organizing a search. Could you name the last, say, five or so fields you and Mia were last at?"

"Y-yeah. Um…hold on. …Sigma: Unusual Destroyer's Drift…Sigma: Tested Quicksilver Neigh… Sigma: Expansive Fallow Twins… Delta: Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field… Lambda: Lightless Pagan Widow." Pause. "Please…help me find her…" Elk's voice broke on the last two words, and the distraught Wavemaster ended the transmission.

The Twin Blade emitted a shuddering sigh, feeling his own eyes water at Elk's desperation. The people at the table weren't much better. Nuke had laced his fingers together, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands. His eyes were closed again, and Kite was suddenly reminded of Krim. Rachel was drumming her fingers nervously on the tabletop, chewing on her lower lip with her eyebrows tilted in a frown; Gardenia had settled for glaring at the glass surface, a thousand worries fleeting within her steely eyes and none escaping her colorless, thin lips. Sanjuro was basically in the same state.

BlackRose and Balmung entered, and Kite nodded curtly at them, though his gaze lingered on his partner for a long moment. Then again, he thought glumly, he could understand how Elk felt. The threat of Twilight had passed, and now he could focus on more arduous things such as emotions; namely, the usually subdued ones he harbored directed at his roseate-haired comrade. If she were to just up and _vanish_…

Moonstone appeared in the doorway. He adjusted his blindfold and craned his neck to spare Kite a glance—or something like it, considering the orange bandana around his eyes; he nodded curtly and shifted to allow any other newcomers passageway. He folded his arms.

Kite swallowed and very nearly blushed, remembering his train of thoughts. _Now isn't the time_, he chastised himself. He internally braced himself, but his words came out steady. "I'm sending an e-mail to those who are offline," he said. "Five fields…we'll divide into groups of three. Some groups might have less or more people, depending on who's online this afternoon." He rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly—damn it, it was too early to be this exhausted. "In the meantime…well… Just spread out, search the Root Towns. Balmung, if it's not too much trouble, post something on the message boards."

The Azure Sky's eyebrow arched, and in spite of his queasiness earlier, he managed a slightly incredulous, "Why me?"

Rachel snapped out of her melancholy reverie and scoffed. "'Cause you're Balmung, ya goof. Everyone listens to _you_."

It was no secret that the female American in their group held the same admiration for the Azure Sky as the rest of his (not-so-official) fan club; her blue eyes twinkled and her lightly tanned cheeks flushed almost immediately as he gave her a disbelieving look. Nuke and BlackRose snorted simultaneously; the latter shot the former a somewhat alarmed look. The colorful Long Arm's eyes were still closed.

"She's right, Balmung," Kite said with a sigh, not patient enough to have his arrangements questioned. "I'll contact Lios…and probably Helba if we don't find Mia in those fields, alright?"

Nods.

Silence.

"…Well?" Kite pressed, raising an eyebrow in a manner reminiscent of Balmung. "What're you waiting for? Root Towns. Mia. Look for. Go. Come back in two hours. Don't go to the fields Elk listed. Ask around."

Moonstone, the last to enter, was incidentally the first to leave, nodding compliantly and practically vanishing. (Kite had the strong suspicion he had no idea what was going on. Fortunately, the wielder of the Twilight Bracelet couldn't be pushed to ask.) Rachel was next, standing with a determined expression; her sword materialized in a shower of yellow sparks, and she walked out of the hideout with an abnormally glum Nuke in tow. (They seemed almost inseparable at times. Had it been anyone _but_ Nuke and Rachel, he would have thought…) Last was Sanjuro, who spared Kite an acknowledging nod before Gating Out just outside the doorway.

Which left Balmung, who had no real incentive to leave as of yet, BlackRose, with whom he wanted to spend time, and…himself. _Not much to say there._

"So," the Heavy Blade began without an ounce of discomfort, "let's think of groups, okay? 'Cause Balmung's parking his shiny metal ass here and he won't leave until the last minute, so…"

The white-haired Blademaster glared, stubbornly tightening his grip around the arms of the emerald green chair upon which his shiny metal ass was parked.

Kite consulted his member address list, sitting down in the chair opposite the one Balmung was sitting in; BlackRose had perched almost daintily (if such a thing was possible for the somewhat coarse swordswoman) on the armrest. Her presence washed over him, and he found his tension receding at a surprising rate. "I messaged Elk," she said, absentmindedly adjusting her burgundy gauntlets. "He'll be here in two hours, like everyone else…" She pursed her lips, the corners of her mouth curled downward. "I think we should put him with someone he won't feel intimidated by. What about Natsume?"

Kite nodded, mentally filing away the names as she ticked them off with her fingers. "I think that Sanjuro should go with them," she said, "because he's a nice guy. Got a lot of paternal instincts, and Elk needs friendly and _not-scary_ people to help him look for Mia." She chuckled in spite of herself. "And probably…let's see…"

Half an hour later, the groups were as follows:

1. Elk; Natsume; Sanjuro;  
2. Gardenia; Marlo; Orca;   
3. Nuke Usagimaru; Rachel;   
4. Mistral; Wiseman; Piros;   
5. Terajima Ryoko; Moonstone; Kazu (?);  
6. Kite; BlackRose; Balmung;

Finished with the tedious task of organization, Kite sighed and leaned back, somehow guiltless for lazing about whilst his teammates held full-scale inquiries at the Root Towns. In the real world, a pair of eyelids drooped closed, his exhaustion rather self-imposed; in spite of his unease and confusion, in spite of his worry for Elk and Mia and in spite of the fact that the idea of a darker force behind Mia's disappearance made him physically sick, Kite found himself slipping away to euphoric unconsciousness, in which a hastily-dismissed concern was the fact he was to awaken in an hour and a half.

He would instead be pulled from his nightmares in a mere 25 minutes.

* * *

BlackRose smiled, her smile belying more than fondness as she drew a blanket over Kite's dozing form. Gently, she eased herself off the armrest and instead took a seat on the bed (now lacking somewhat in the blanket area).

"Mother hen instincts?" Balmung challenged, though his tone was more good-humored than biting. They had never really gotten along that well at all; although they set aside their petty difference for the sake of The World (and Kite's sanity), she still treated him as less of a Descendant of Fianna and more of a piece of crap beneath her boots that required scuffing. And naturally, he, being a respected and revered member of online society, would simply not take that attitude from a Heavy Blade with a pair of twigs for legs.

She chuckled. "Not really. I'm an older sister. This stuff comes naturally." Pause. Her eyes wistfully studied the orange-and-white-clad character slumped over in the chair, as if trying to burn the image into her mind. "Kite's a real hero," she said quietly, and Balmung looked up, something unreadable in his lily-colored gaze. "I mean…if things were fair, _Elk_ would be the one organizing this search…but Elk's the desperate one now, running around out there like a chicken with its head cut off…and he's here, giving orders to people who are willing to listen." Pause. "Giving orders to _us_. For something totally unrelated to viruses or Data Bugs or Morganna…"

The Azure Sky was quiet, and this time his eyes were prying; she genuinely hadn't noticed, too busy watching the almost imperceptible rise and fall of Kite's chest as he slept.

When her silence began to unnerve him, he spoke. "You're just noticing that we're more than his soldiers?" he dared to ask. The tone and question implied a sort of underlying disrespect, none of which Balmung meant.

Her gaze shifted to match his, burgundy eyes relaying a whole new slate of emotions he didn't know she was capable of feeling, much less _expressing_.

"No," BlackRose said at last. "_He_ is."

In a long moment in which no one spoke, Balmung turned her response over and over in his mind. When he couldn't decide what to make of it, he simply watched Kite sleep.

* * *

He was used to being brave, he realized, floating aimlessly in the dark; his clothes had a neon greenish tinge, but when he looked for the source of light, he found none. After a moment, a horrible stench assaulted Kite's nostrils, and he would have vomited if he could have opened his mouth. He had just enough time to classify it as the stench of rotting corpses—until he was attacked, wisps of _something_ hissing and violently shifting as if slowly eating away at the thin barrier between his heart and _anything else_: his skin. 

Hooked claws like scythes emerged from the darkness and began tracing curved lines on his pale torso—thick, curved lines, created with agonizing slowness; pain flooded his senses like liquid fire.

His mouth was sewn shut.

Muffled screams were issued from his swollen throat.

No one answered.

The lines—they were too…too perfect, almost immaculate, and there were too few—

_pain opens the door_

The claws retracted; as blood fell from the crimson streaks like teardrops, as the air was heavily scented with salt and decay and _blood_, as maggots fell from the darkness and began to writhe their way towards the unfinished image carved in his flesh, as he spiraled into the darkness enveloped by the sound of laughter—

_unfinished_

Kite awoke with a soundless scream, one hand splayed on his clothed chest and the other frantically attacking the air. In real life, one of Takamoto Kenji's hands curled around the front of his visor—and the player behind the hero ripped it off, standing up so quickly the chair toppled out from beneath him, and he tripped, tumbling over the fallen object.

His heartbeat drowned out the concerned shouts of his friends emitting from the headphones.

His throat was dry and gravelly, and he opened his mouth, gratefully accepting the rush of oxygen into his empty lungs.

He could so vividly remember the pain, the feel of tiny white maggots wriggling across his chest and immersing themselves beneath his skin, indulging themselves in the taste of his blood and flesh and muscle and _whatever_…

He sat down at his desk, a shaking hand picking up the fallen visor.

As the dizzy image of BlackRose's face swam into view, the Twin Blade named Kite stared dazed up at them, his forehead and neck coated in sweat. One of his hands weaved beneath his orange vest and white shirt, a finger lightly tracing the searing injuries the claws had inflicted upon him—and they weren't there. Well, of course they weren't. He _dreamed_ them.

"Pain opens the door," Kite whispered.

"Kite?" BlackRose queried, concern flashing in her garnet eyes.

Inebriated, he whispered, "You're beautiful…"

Takamoto Kenji tilted his head away from the monitor and vomited. The action was mimicked by his digital counterpart.

_Author's Note: Whoo, vomit. oo; OKAY! Since _**Of the Young And Foolish** _has told me I have forgotten a disclaimer, I shall DISPUTE ALL CLAIMS THAT I OWN PROJECT .HACK. XD Whoo! I feel better now._

_If anyone could check out the fields listed above and give me the weather, general description, and so forth, I'd be most grateful. ;-; Why? I suck too much to do it myself…_ _And I'll write a fluffy and/or angsty fanfiction piece for your favorite pairing if you so desire. Help, please? Thanks. _


	3. Agony and Minor Turbulence

"I didn't think that was _possible_," Balmung commented idly, using his newfound administrative powers to return the carpet back to its dry and cleanly state. "Then again, you're Kite. I guess if anyone's capable of vomiting in The World, it's you." His chest plate crunched when BlackRose planted her fist in it. His only expression of pain was a grunt and a glare, but she was focused on other things; namely, Kite, who was busy coughing up the rest of his breakfast.

She laced her fingers with the Twin Blade's, eyes aglitter with worry and no semblance of disgust. He stopped coughing at last, swallowing away the foul taste in his mouth. She exhaled sharply, and at the end of it she pressed her palm gently on the side of his throat with a slight frown.

"Calm down," she ordered, her voice cutting through the remnants of the surreal, forcefully yanking him from sleep's thick embrace. He accepted her command and the underlying alarm, steadying his breathing and loosening his clutch on the sheets. Her thumb traced the angular curves of one of his red tattoos; Kite hesitated, contemplating retrieving a glass of water or something in real life, but he decided against it, choosing to let the parchedness in his throat subside on its own. "What happened?"

Kite fingered the latches on his vest, before undoing the thick white collar around his neck and the buckles on his orange vest, tossing aside the obtrusive belt that was often slung around his shoulder and removing most articles of clothing on his torso aside from his white shirt. The shirt was rather loose and was oft susceptible to wrinkles; it was made of a sheer, flimsy material, and it was easy to see why he wore a vest above it.

_thick, curved lines created with agonizing slowness_

When he lifted his shirt, there was nothing, though he could see the outline very clearly in his mind's eye.

"Kite…? What is it?"

He looked up at BlackRose, and suddenly felt a burning sense of guilt for making her worry, even with the knowledge that he had every right to, really. "I…"

_I had a nightmare._

"…Nothing," Kite said, eyes cast downward.

The Blademaster and the Heavy Blade exchanged a dubious glance, and he knew they didn't believe him.

**Serendipity  
Part 3 – Agony and Minor Turbulence  
**_I said, baby  
What are you doing?  
Who are you fooling?  
Nobody but me  
I said, baby  
Give me some time  
To change your mind  
Come back to me  
_Nobody But Me – Save Ferris

Nuke Usagimaru was not a happy camper. In fact, he was…grumpy. Yes, grumpy. Rhymes with Grunty. Kind of.

…So very grumpy.

"This field is _not_ supposed to rain," the Long Arm interjected desperately, as if his complaints would stop the downpour. "And I don't think we were supposed to check this place out until…" Pause. "An hour and a half from now! Rachel…! Rachel, are you listening to me?" he whined, brushing a soggy strand of pink hair out of his eyes and trailing reluctantly along after the Blademaster. "No, of course you aren't," he rambled. "You never listen to me. You don't even like my jokes! My _jokes_! You know, Rach, we've been partners for a long time, but I don't think this is working out. I—"

"Would you shut up?" Rachel snapped, thrusting her sword hand backwards at random to try and stab him or something; he blocked automatically, apparently used to this process by now. "I just wanna check this place out! Get a feel of it, you know? And it won't hurt to check it out a little beforehand," she added almost as an afterthought.

Steps became sloshes as Delta: Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field appeared more of a bare marsh than grassland.

"This rain isn't natural," Nuke mumbled without thinking.

"Of course it isn't natural," she said shortly. "This is a game! You're a little cold now, but take off your headset and you're as dry as…something dry."

"That's not what I meant," he grumbled, more than a little annoyed at her brusque attitude. A devilish smile crossed his face suddenly, and he would have leaned on his spear had he been standing still. "So! What's this about that Balmung of the Azure Sky, huh? Shall I proceed with the cheesy angel jokes? How shall I compare thee to a winter's day? Well, thou art thrice as temperate and just as pale…" His voice adapted a singsong as he danced with his spear, twirling rather elegantly on the tip of his toes.

Rachel's ears reddened faintly. Nuke congratulated himself on a job well done. "I don't know _what_ you're talking about!" she said, hastily dismissing the notion with a wave of her hand. "We're just friends…if that." The last two words were said somewhat sadly, which only further piqued Nuke's curiosity. "And would you stop mutilating Shakespeare?"

"Poetry lives to be mutilated," he said solemnly, fingers stroking an invisible beard. "As do monsters, come to think of it. And Grunties."

"Grunties?"

"Yes. Grunties. Good substitute for pork or steak or chicken, whatever suits your fancy. Grunty curry. Grunty cola. Grunty Ramen. Sounds good, huh? I could really go for some nice chewy Grunty."

"Nuke, that's _sick_!"

"Grunty sushi. Grunty stew. Grunty noodle soup. Grunty milk…wow, I wouldn't wanna try that. Mm, tasty squishy tender chewy salty yummy healthy—"

"—_Nuke_—"

"—delicious smelly original shiny—"

"—_shiny?_—"

"—gourmet cooked supple delish appetizing spicy zestful succulent—"

"—pay attention, I—"

"—Grunty."

A fist flew out from outside his field of vision and slammed onto the side of his head. "Ow!" Nuke whined, rubbing the throbbing spot on his temple. "That really hurt! If you keep this up, I'll get ugly or something." He made a face. "And heaven knows how horrible that'd be." He paused, blue eyes not quite alight with their usual mirth, and he looked at his loud American companion. She was ignoring him again, damn it. Probably because of that Azure Sky. Nuke never really appreciated the value of legends, preferring to rank among them rather than simply worship their glory.

From where he was standing, though, chances of that seemed awfully low.

He turned, finding her standing idly at some point that was not too close to where he was standing. He ran, skipped, and pranced to her side, doing his best to ignore the fact that he looked like a girl; his hair wasn't quite as vertical as it should have been… He grinned cheekily. "Are we done yet? So, what's the plan, oh fearless leader?" Nuke asked, making a mockery of a salute.

Rachel grinned. "'Fearless leader'… I like the sound of that!" She rubbed her hands together, shoulders quivering slightly from the cold. "Well, we should probably get around to looking for information…"

"Let's go!" Nuke chirped, propping the Gungnir on his shoulder.

Rachel chuckled, amused and somewhat surprised by his willingness. "It's good to have willing subordinates. I knew I could count on you, Nuke!"

"Did you, now?"

Briefly, he wondered if she was lying.

* * *

Elk quite genuinely wanted to die.

He felt so pitiful, crying in the alleyway where he had first met her. Well, no, not quite _crying_ any longer—his eyes were dry, though some itchy streaks remained where his salty tears blazed a trail on his sheet-white cheeks. He felt so horrible, as if his insides had become his outsides; every meal he had had in his miserable existence sporadically jumped in his throat to say hello to the outside world. He refused to blink when he could help it, because quite simply his visage of perfection was _burnt_ unto the backs of his eyelids.

He really, _really_ wanted to stop living. To sit here and stare at the sky, with the clouds reeling and the sun never falling from its noonday perch…to sit there and perhaps rot a little, to never move or think again…yes, that would be grand. It would be a blessing. It would be Christmas in July. It would be the greatest thing that would ever have happened to him.

It occurred to him that the greatest thing ever to have happened to him was meeting Mia.

And then his urge to die increased dramatically.

"What're you doing here?" a foreign voice queried from somewhere above him. After all, it was rather strange to see someone just lying around like that, fingers twitching on occasion and eyes bloodshot with mourning. Elk didn't seem to have noticed until his eyes met the random player's. Neko-something. He didn't know that person and quite frankly he couldn't care less.

Elk answered as truthfully as he could. "Dying."

Because he was, in a sense, dying.

The whoever-it-was peered down at him curiously, debating whether or not to ask; apparently, Neko-something decided against it, shrugging helplessly and jogging away.

His eyelids became slightly heavier as his thoughts spiraled into a dark oblivion. Gods, he was so happy just two days ago. Why did someone, some_thing_ have to waltz along and screw things up, just when they were going so perfectly? He had the hideout; he had The World; he had Mia… She was his world, his definition of happiness, and when presented with irrefutable proof that she in fact wasn't real… He hadn't cared a bit. He slowly, piece-by-piece began constructing the necessary courage to express the emotions locked inside him, to fill the rare and definable breed of silence that oft fell when they were simply basking in the comfort of being in the presence of one another…

He had taken her presence for granted, had selfishly abused the notion that she would never leave him and that he would always log on in the mornings to find her still sleeping on her bed having overexerted herself from yesterday's grand adventure. Telling him good morning, eating breakfast and telling him of what she'd heard whilst prowling the streets. She never asked him what he wanted to do or commented on what she wanted to do, because _they_ did whatever _they_ felt like doing, and that was that.

And now his hope had been cruelly exchanged for regret, because he hadn't been able to stutter—yes, he tended to stutter in her presence—those three little words. He was weak, too weak, too affected by her piercing golden eyes, too stupid to look past the surrealism…to tell her everything, including the manner in which she had saved him from his descent into insanity.

Now, he didn't know where she was. He didn't know if she was hurting or crying or if she _missed him_… Missed him. Elk. The stupid, insignificant and ever-nervous Wavemaster who was lying down in the alleyway they first met. He looked so…_pathetic_.

If it wasn't for her, he might have been…

Elk sat up, the muscles in his back protesting with disuse. BlackRose's Flash Mail rang in his ears.

_"We're organizing a search party, or five. Please come to the hideout this afternoon. We're gonna need your help on this one… Be careful, and don't go beating yourself up about it! She wouldn't want you to."_

BlackRose was too nice to him, even if he was a coward. Everyone's big sister. He almost chuckled at the thought.__

_"Things will get better. I promise."_

He stood, working out the kinks in his knees. The Silent Bomber appeared in his hand, and his narrowed his eyes in newfound resolve.

_No matter what it takes._

His staff glistened in reply.

Just as he Gated Out from the Chaos Gate, vanishing in a train of patterned ringlets, rain began to fall from the eternally midmorning Mac Anu skies; when he appeared in Net Slum, he had no idea, and he heard voices from within Mia's hideout, knowing none of them belonged to her. But that didn't mean silence would be more appeasing, and he walked through the doorway with a small smile.

"_ELK!_" BlackRose shrieked, leaping up with a jolt; apparently, she had been clinging onto Kite's arm, because the poor soul flopped unceremoniously off the chair and onto the floor. Sad world indeed. Balmung snickered from the corner at Kite's misfortune whilst she gave the Wavemaster the once-over. "You didn't hurt yourself, did you?" she asked pointedly, brushing off some invisible dirt from his sleeve. "Right then. People will be coming, so don't you walk around looking like a nervous wreck." He nodded—the only indication that he was still on the same realm of existence—and sat down on the bed, staff disintegrating in his leather-wrapped hands.

"You fit the description of 'nervous wreck' more aptly than he does," Balmung thought aloud, barely able to crisscross his arms in front of his chest before her fist made impact with his forearms. Silence. A slight crunching sound. The Azure Sky's teeth appeared rather ground-down from clenching, but he didn't retaliate (certainly out of no necessity to maintain the peace).

Kite twitched from his spot on the floor. No one seemed to notice, or care for that matter.

Nuke and Rachel (quite a pair, those two) filed in accordingly, the former adjusting his hair and grumbling vulgarities beneath his breath. The latter was busy squeezing large amounts of water from her ponytail…also grumbling vulgarities, though her vocabulary was spades more colorful than Nuke's. Elk flushed as Rachel's volume increased substantially.

"Damn!" she screeched, pulling the ribbon out of her hair and running her fingers through the long strands. "Did you see that!? It's rainin' cats and dogs out there! And Gating Out did me absolutely _no_ good!" Her body suit was plastered to her tanned skin, soaked to a darker shade of yellow. She was not pleased with this new development, as evident by her jerky movements. She removed the brown leather strap slung around her shoulders and dropped her item sac on the floor, the disc-like cuffs on her wrists and ankles vanishing at her unspoken command.

"You're getting the floor wet," Balmung said testily, obviously not in the mood to play digital janitor. She blushed furiously, embarrassed at being reprimanded, and shuffled aside to allow Nuke further passageway. "Have you two found anything?"

"The many uses of Grunties," Nuke commented idly, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth. Rachel chuckled beneath her breath, but the rest, excluding Kite who was still lying on the floor for some reason, exchanged curious looks but said nothing. "Aside from that, nothing. Nada. Zip. Zilch." He looked at Elk, an eyebrow raised. "You alright, kid?" he asked in a surprisingly serious tone.

He nodded, slightly intimidated by his abrupt change of character. "Y-yeah. I… We'll find her. I know." He nodded hastily, a kind of whiplash-inducing nod. Rachel shot Nuke a look, but his eyes were closed again.

_Strange guy, that_, Balmung noted mutedly. He didn't voice his thoughts aloud, but his hackles rose if only slightly.

Kite had managed to clamber into his chair without anyone noticing, and he looked the epitome of collected leadership. As more and more people appeared in the hideout, he pressed his fingertips together, thoughts drifting without his consent.

_Inebriated, he whispered, "You're beautiful…"_

"Shit," he whispered to himself, eyes widening. _Did I really say…?_ he wondered dumbly. His relationship with BlackRose was already treading on thin ice, but…

He looked at her as she discussed something quietly with Balmung and Orca; her wine-colored eyes were narrowed and her lips were moving slowly and deliberately, as if trying to pound some piece of information into someone's head—probably Balmung's, he thought. They'd never really gotten along, evident by the Azure Sky's ensuing glare and Orca's chuckle. She tended to be very selective about whom she trusted, a subconscious trait that quite inadvertently saved their lives on more than one occasion, and he always felt a small burst of pride whenever he was reminded that she trusted _him_ with certain things.

…And she trusted certain _other_ people with certain _other_ things. That irked him. That irked him a lot.

He chastised himself, tugging at the flaps of his hat and pulling it further over his head. Now that was just forbidden territory. Who was he to deny her the company of others? No one. No. One. She'd kill him for sure. He was just being an idiot. An adolescent idiot. She was, after all, only his friend, his anchor to reality, the driving force behind his will. She was his constant in a world of change, a ray of life and light when the darkness of his burden threatened to wholly consume him; she was _more_ than just one of his two-dimensional soldiers, she was…something…different…

_…_

"This sucks," he grunted, pressing his fingers to his forehead. The room suddenly fell silent at his standoffish statement, an ode to his authority.

And everyone nearly jumped through the roof when Nuke interrupted the silence, stating rather simply, "I agree."

Silence.

"So," Orca said simply, "when are we moving out?"

Kite snapped into focus, back going rigid and straight. He swallowed and nodded. "Now." Pause. "BlackRose, Balmung, and I will post inquiries on the message boards," he said, making it a point to ignore BlackRose's somewhat startled look, "and _maybe_ talk to Lios and Helba."

He was secretly relieved she didn't comment. He also made it a point to ignore Ryoko's momentarily confused and hurt expression; he didn't have the time to—

_Hypocrite._

He sighed and massaged his forehead. "Elk, Natsume, and Sanjuro will inspect Sigma: Unusual Destroyer's Drift. Gardenia. Marlo, and Orca to Sigma: Tested Quicksilver Neigh. Nuke and Rachel, Sigma: Expansive Fallow Twins. Mistral, Wiseman, and Piros, Lambda: Lightless Pagan Widow. Ryoko, Moonstone, and Kazu to Delta: Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field…"

Nuke and Rachel looked at one another. He didn't notice.

Some more silence.

"…What're you waiting for?" Balmung demanded waspishly, prompting a few pairs of feet to shuffle and a slight derisive snort from Orca. "Go! Don't return until you've searched those places inside out."

_Author's Notes: Mm, crap chapter. Zero character development, zero plot. Sorry. ;-; Things will pick up next chapter, I promise.  
Elk got screen time! Woo! And everyone gets prose! Woo! Let's party like it's 2010!_

_Next chapter: Kazu is not a .hacker and damn well knows it. Kazu wonders why he's there. Ryoko fawns over Kite. Moonstone fawns over his blindfold. Kazu, Ryoko, and Moonstone get into trouble. Moonstone is annoyed and smarter than everyone else. Balmung has a heart to heart with his coffee cup. Lios sings in the rain. Or something._


	4. The Unwilling Comrade

**Serendipity  
Part 4 – The Unwilling Comrade**

_Why do evil men get away with it?  
Can't you see that I'm in a world of shit?  
Turn your back on hope, and go back inside  
Stop my bleeding heart and let the engine die_  
Go – Blink 182

Moonstone made Terajima Ryoko very uncomfortable, no doubt about it. She had felt an insane and irrational amount of guilt for forcing him to slow his pace to a quick stride, and even then she had trouble keeping up, resigned to putting away her Thunder Dad and lifting her formerly immaculate white skirts to maintain a jogging pace. Sure, she—she was by no means the strongest member of the group, but this was ridiculous. More than ridiculous. _Scandalous_. Kite was a wonderful person and very sweet, but sometimes the choices he made were absolutely…ludicrous.

She bit her lip, ignoring the thunder that roared in her ears (heartbeat or actual thunder?). It wasn't as though BlackRose and Kite were…well, _together_. Sure, they—they had been partners for a very long time, but their relationship was strictly business and strictly platonic. And…and Balmung was there! No funny business in Balmung-sama's presence…

But…it wasn't as though Balmung would make an effort to _do_ anything about it.

She brushed away a lock of gold hair clinging to the side of her face and adjusted the circlet on her forehead, idly wondering when Moonstone would be done making his rounds. He had insisted, not with words but with actions, that they perform a full-field scan; Kazu had no complaints, although he was slightly bewildered about being there in the first place. Ryoko knew BlackRose had put him up to it, and that he was here as an act of gratitude. A debt unannounced but still unpaid.

It wasn't as though she didn't _like_ Moonstone, either. Moonstone was polite…but then again, so was everybody. It seemed that total strangers were automatically the best of friends at Kite's whim.

_He doesn't see me at all, though…_

Her thoughts became increasingly morbid, her sapphire eyes glistening with tears (not to be confused with rain)—and then, quite uneventfully, she slammed smack dab into Kazu's back. The Wavemaster responded by toppling forward with a yelp, falling face first into the labyrinth of water obstructed by blades of grass.

"I'm sorry!" Ryoko exclaimed, kneeling next to Kazu's immobile form, one hand clasped over her mouth. "Are you okay? I wasn't paying attention, I'm so sorry—"

Moonstone's palm flew over her mouth, and she squeaked softly as the Twin Blade's head jerked erratically from side to side.

"Stay down," Moonstone ordered, and Kazu obeyed, propping himself up slightly on his elbows and wiping his face with his sleeve—which didn't do much good, obviously, since his robes were wet as well, but it helped get a bit of mud off of his cheeks at any rate. Ryoko's fingernails scrabbled for a hold at Moonstone's wrists, and annoyed, he pulled his hand away. "I heard something."

"Well, you obviously didn't _see_ anything, did you?" Kazu grumbled to himself. He then instantly looked guilty for his slipup. Luckily, Moonstone hadn't heard, or was pretending not to have heard.

"It's probably just a monster," Ryoko whispered, a bare finger nervously smoothening the folds of her dress.

Beneath his orange blindfold, she got the distinct impression he was glaring at her. "There are no monsters," he said simply and shortly, as if that solved all of their problems. Was that what he was doing when she and Kazu had mysteriously lost track of him for a good three-four minutes? To prove his point, a Fairy Orb appeared in his hand with a low hum; as evidenced by the hologram that stood upright from the glinting ball, there was no doubt about the fact that Moonstone had cleared Delta: Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field in record time. Kazu's eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline.

"Well," the Wavemaster said, voice uncertain but optimistic, "it could be another player. It's not like this area is closed off or anything."

Moonstone was motionless upon hearing his words. Finally, the Twin Blade stood in his usual rigid manner. "Go into the dungeon." A brief pause. "I'll catch up." And he vanished just like that, leaving Ryoko and Kazu alone, cold, wet, confused, and conveniently near the staircase that led to the stony underground cavern. He looked at her, again uncertain.

So this was leadership. Although the burden was nowhere as heavy as Kite's, she still found it rather…stressful. She sympathized with Kite, having to order around a dozen and more people, providing them with weapons to better service him with…

Her lightly pink-glossed lips curved upwards into a weak smile, and she made a mental note not to move as fast as Moonstone (though such a thing was probably impossible and improbable), lest he feel rushed; her axe appeared in her hand and she made her way towards the dry (yet still insanely chilly) dungeon with the Wavemaster wordless at her heels.

The dungeon in Delta: Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field was small, and the portals few and far in-between. Kite, after the defeat of Macha, had struggled with an excuse to explain Mia's absence to all but Elk, until finally with the aid of BlackRose he was resigned to telling the one thing people would believe: the truth. Sure, they had known the extent of his bracelet's powers, but only Mistral had bothered to inquire as to the bracelet's true origins. Everyone else automatically assumed it was a rare item he won for a contest of some sort.

Imagine his surprise when his storytelling merited casual shrugs and casual replies, followed by the unanimous confirmation that they were behind him all the way.

This place was where it all began, she realized, descending the narrow stairs and shivering as the last of the sunlight was shut out. A level one Kite had dwelled these halls months before she had even thought of registering for The World.

"This place is nowheresville," Kazu remarked, and she heard the whoosh of air indicating he was now disarmed. "I don't think we have much to worry about, Terajima-san."

"Ryoko," she said absently. "J-just Ryoko will do."

The dungeon was slightly dark, with frost collecting in the tight corners; aside from the mundane corridor, the occasional wall had a mock-prison cell imbedded in it, a skeleton's decayed arm extended halfway through in a last, desperate attempt to bid for freedom. She could still hear the splatter of the rain outside, the impact of water against water; if it weren't for the slight upward indentation of stone built just before the stairway, the dungeon would have collected its fair share of water as well.

Ryoko flapped her wings if only slightly in a weak attempt to dry out the white feathers. With a sigh, her fingers fiddled with the gloves on her forearms, and then the damp gloves vanished altogether. Unfortunately, that was about the only thing she could remove without taking off her dress altogether.

Her thoughts drifted again as the duo trotted quietly across the first corridor, stubbornly refusing to consult a Fairy Orb for such a miniscule dungeon.

An intersection. "Which way, Ryoko-san?" Kazu asked, eyes flitting from side to side.

Ryoko peered down the right path, squinting slightly into the darkness; she shook her head, a nagging feeling suddenly pulling at the recesses of her mind. "…Let's go left," she said.

As he nodded and trotted down the left path, Ryoko found it increasingly difficult to believe that this subservient person was related to the hotheaded Heavy Blade in any way, shape, or form. BlackRose would have challenged almost every decision, and in response Kite would give a logical answer with a patient smile, or maybe a curiously raised eyebrow…

…and she was thinking about Kite again.

"H-hey," she stammered, keeping her back to him so as not to reveal the wide array of emotions crossing her face. "So…um…how's your sister?"

He shrugged nonchalantly, not really paying attention. "Fine, I guess." He continued plodding after her, looking somewhat eager to get this over with. "Talks a lot, but I don't really mind. She's good. It's cool." Ryoko could detect a hint of fondness in his voice. "Talks a lot about stuff now, more than she used to. Skips out on tennis sometimes to play The World, but mom doesn't mind." After a lingering pause, she realized that if she wanted to hear more he was waiting for a prompt.

"Oh?" she said, obviously out of the lack of anything smarter to utter.

"Mom _knows_." A careful emphasis on the last word indicated something a lot deeper…

"Oh. …_Oh_!" Her bare hands flew to her mouth, but she lowered them trembling to her sides. That was something…_new_. Ryoko hadn't quite heard of any of her comrades reporting their online escapades to, say, a coworker or a real-life friend, much less their _family_. Then again, she realized, it might have been for the better, considering…well, it was _Kazu_ and _BlackRose_. "I…I see." Dimly, she wondered what to ask next. "Um…what does she talk about?" she ventured, fearing the worst.

Kazu shrugged again. "Stuff. Mostly about the stupid things her friends do." He chuckled, and she didn't inquire as to the reason; he seemed to be reflecting on a private joke. "She used to hate The World. I asked her about it one day after I woke up from my coma. I asked her if she would quit playing after, you know, everything's done."

Ryoko was surprised to find a ray of hope where it shouldn't have been, and she shook her head vigorously, as if it would fall out of her ears. _What am I thinking…?_ she asked herself in amazement. Ryoko was in love with Kite, yes, and she was somewhat deterred by the Heavy Blade, but even so, those were horrible thoughts she would never, _ever_ entertain.

"She just got all quiet until I changed the subject."

She felt the majority of the negativities she harbored towards BlackRose dissipate, replaced by worry for—for a _friend_. "Is she okay? Is she sick or anything?"

"Um, not sick, no. Physically, no. Mentally…well, sometimes I have my doubts." He was laughing. She was not.

Suddenly, she felt a little prod at her shoulder, and she furrowed her brow. "What is it, Kazu?" she asked distractedly, a little peeved at his reaction to her genuine concern. Tap, tap. She resisted the urge to growl in a very Gardenia-like way, and let out a sigh, spinning around, her white skirts fanning out elegantly in the wake of her twirl. "Kazu, what—" she began, but upon crashing face first into a bare, tattooed torso, she shrieked and tumbled backwards. "MOONSTONE-SAN!!" she screamed almost accusingly, thrusting one finger out to point at him. "D-don't scare me like that! You—_you_!!"

She had half a mind to whip out her axe and relieve him of the burden on his neck—until she noticed his outstretched hand, a gentlemanly gesture belying his monotonous façade; feeling herself flush in response to her previous anger, she accepted it and scrambled to her feet, glowering at the Wavemaster behind Moonstone. Kazu shrugged and chuckled. Obviously, he had seen the stoic Twin Blade coming and hadn't bothered to notify her.

Moonstone cast a sideways glance at Kazu.

Kazu lifted an eyebrow. "What?"

"…You've been taking your time," Moonstone said dryly.

Ryoko swallowed. "S-sorry."

"…Keep moving."

Kazu perked up. "Hey, did you find out what that thing was? The one you were so suspicious of?"

"…No. That doesn't mean there isn't anything out there. Be on your guard."

Looking almost dismayed at the lack of action, Kazu reluctantly led the way, the soft soles of his shoes making a rather discernable echo that bounced off the stonewalls. Ryoko thought to adjust the contrast of her headset; it seemed the hallways dragged on forever and ever into the darkness… But, she reasoned, this was a relatively tiny dungeon and the search would be over in a minute. Comforted by the presence of the level 99 Twin Blade at her back, her familiar elbow-length and fingerless white gloves appeared on her forearms, and she continued walking.

"Do we _have_ to be on our guard?" Kazu inquired curiously, extending one finger to trace the tiny ridges in the walls. "This is a level one area. We have a level 56 Heavy Axe and a level 99 Twin Blade…and me," he added as a humble afterthought. Ryoko approved, though with a quiet smile. "I don't think we have a lot to worry about, aside from maybe a couple of Goblins… Unless you think that it's another player…?" He craned his neck around to give Moonstone a questioning look, then scrunched up his face upon realization that Moonstone couldn't…quite…see…it. His questioning look.

The silver-haired man's lips tightened and curled slightly downward as he mulled over his response. "Maybe. This may have been far safer if Kite had accompanied us—any of us—but since he's only one person…" His lip curled farther downward in disdain, and she dimly wondered what that meant. Maybe he sympathized…or maybe _not_. "…Be that as it may…if there is a Data Bug of any sort…"

"We run," Ryoko acknowledged with a determined nod. It must have sounded comical, because Kazu's mouth quirked upward, but then sank immediately as his eyes became unfocused—sad, and weary. She bit her lip. "A-and what if it's a person?" she questioned, trying to get the Wavemaster's mind off Data Bugs.

Another hesitation. Obviously, Moonstone was not the kind of man who did or said things on impulse. "That depends on whether or not he or she is a threat," he said flatly, and that effectively ended any and all conversation. Kazu, the kind of person who talked to ease his way out of uncomfortable situations, decided that in this case, and in the company of this particular person, silence was a-okay.

For a while, anyway.

A shuddering moan echoed through the spiraling darkness, almost the stereotypical ghost's wail but not quite; it was fragmented and hollow and sorrowful, and it sent a chill down Ryoko's spine—but that came before the fear.

"M-M-Moonstone-san!!" she whisper-screamed, tumbling backwards; his hands clamped down on her shoulders, but her shaking left arm wrenched free from his grip and thrust outward towards the darkness. "There's something out there!! O-or some_one_!!"

Kazu braced himself, but lowered his hands to allow his staff to appear in his hands. "I think it's a person!" he called over his shoulder, and as a shrill note was placed into the next wail, Kazu bobbed his head up and down in an anxious nod. "D-definitely a person. We gotta help them!" And with that, the Wavemaster sped off without awaiting Moonstone's response.

"Kazu, _wait_!" the Twin Blade barked to his rapidly disappearing back, and then he relinquished his grip on Ryoko's shoulders; she opened her mouth, and then squeaked loudly as he hefted her into his arms, her face burning red. "You move too slowly," he informed her by way of calm reasoning. And in a dizzying rush of air and color, he was off and running evenly at Kazu's side in a matter of seconds. "…Kazu. This is most likely a trap…"

The Wavemaster exhaled noisily between his teeth, face ashen as he ran towards the source of the noise. "I know," he said.

"…Then…?"

Kazu stopped abruptly, and Moonstone (clutching the panicked Ryoko in his arms) stopped with him, scrutinizing him carefully behind the orange cloth around his eyes.

"When I was _taken_," he hissed venomously, causing Moonstone's lip to curl downward again and Ryoko's heart to skip several beats, "I screamed."

Ryoko's eyes glistened again, and she kept her eyes focused on the curve of Moonstone's shoulder and the wall behind it, a dozen nameless emotions ensnaring her heart and suffocating her slowly.

"And _no one_ helped me." His voice lowered to a strangled, anguished, but somehow controlled octave, and it took all of Ryoko's self-control not to cry. _But why?_ she asked herself, some small, unimportant part of her angry about the way her emotions were overwhelming at times. "_No_. _One_." And with that finality, Kazu sped off again, crossing hallway to hallway and finally making it into the deepest level—or, rather, the second level.

Moonstone watched him go, before jogging at a reasonably slow rate (for Moonstone, anyway) after him. He didn't comment when Ryoko choked out a sob, and he pretended not to notice when she wept, noting that she politely avoided crying on his bare torso, preferring to daintily disperse the tears trickling down her pale cheeks with the fingertips of one hand.

She sniffled and hiccupped for the final time just as they descended into the last floor, and he lowered her; her feet touched the ground, and she was grimly resolute once again.

Kazu had halted at the entryway to the corridor, ashen-faced, hands quivering at his sides; his staff had vanished in the wake of his unadulterated horror, and the Wavemaster fell to his knees, his lower jaw shaking uncontrollably, moving over unvoiced queries and exclamations and screams. Ryoko was alarmed immediately, and she opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, but Moonstone stepped forth first. It was quite a feat, upon reflection, how he managed to stay calm upon the sight that awaited him.

Those weren't skeletons scrabbling outside of their jail cells. This was not a sight that could be dismissed with a hearty laugh and a claim that it was purely digital and little else.

Moonstone swallowed, struggling to look impassive as he walked further into the corridor, slow footsteps resounding in the chamber; he raised two fingers to the side of his temple (in the real world, tapping a button on his headset) and uttered two words:

"They're real."

Surely enough, as he continued pacing further into the depths of the corridor, the moaning figures with their outstretched arms and their poorly-stitched faces, with that clear fluid dripping out of twin indentations in their heads that Moonstone could only distinguish were tears and eyes (respectfully)…

To each figure (there had to be more than 20), hairless and clothed in torn and ragged remnants of armor and robes, the visor innocently displayed a name, and innocently suggested the initiation of a trade.

"They're real," he said, more quietly this time.

That had been the closest thing to fear Moonstone had ever felt.

The worst was yet to come.

_Author's Note: This chapter was a bitch to write; other than that I have no real excuse for the lateness. I needed to give Kazu a personality. I needed to pull off angsty Ryoko. And sooner or later I lost track of redundancy, so leave my multiple usage of the word "alarm" (or whatever) alone!_

_Kazu… Let's outline his persona a bit, okay? He's kind of reluctant to be here because he doesn't belong, but he'll do anything for his beloved sister and her friends. He's a nervous, fidgety kind of guy who makes idle conversation (as noted somewhere above). He admires his sister a lot, and kind of wants to be like her. See? Kazu has personality!  
Ryoko… I'll be frank. I don't want her macking on BlackRose's Kite. EVER. If she wasn't such a bloody Mary Sue, I'd be a little more tolerant. So, deciding that everyone needs love (kind of), I sat down one day (a long time ago) and thought, "Who x Ryoko = love?" And I came up with…_

_Moonstone. Yes, I know. It's just bizarre and kind of creepy. But come on, when you really think about it, it's kind of sweet. Here we have monotonous and fearless Moonstone who's obsessed with stabbing things/people stronger than him…and then there's kind, sweet, easily intimidated Terajima-san, the perfect person to chew on his heart. Or make one for him. I don't know how I'll make it work here, exactly. This chapter seems to lean towards Kazu x Ryoko, and that kind of saddens me. I'll fix that someday._


	5. The Forsaken Ones

**Serendipity  
Part 5 – The Forsaken Ones**

_New, what do you own, the world?  
How do you own disorder, disorder  
Now, somewhere between the sacred silence  
Sacred silence and sleep  
Somewhere between the sacred silence and sleep  
Disorder; disorder  
Disorder_  
Toxicity – System of a Down

She was horror-stricken, but in a disciplined sort of way. She knew not how to express her terror in long-winded lamentations—the words wouldn't come—and so some section of her subconscious told her to scream. After a moment's pause, she obeyed, and did a damn good job of it too.

It was shrill and loud and everything a _good_ girlish scream should be; there was no certain underline, one that would belie a good deal more emotion, the good deal more that she felt. Setting aside fear, there was compassion. Setting aside compassion, there was bewilderment. Setting aside bewilderment, there was fear, fear, and a whole lot of fear. It was a vicious cycle, and the fear was unending though her breath ran short.

Kazu's face was a sickly shade of gray—his skin was a sickly shade of gray.

He used the wall as a crutch as he stood, until he was forced to relinquish his grip by walking further into the room. Outstretched hands thirsted for a merciful touch, and though his eye remained fixated on Moonstone, he was careful not to allow any blind fingers come within a few feet of him.

Repulsion would be far too strong a word. One can be piteous, understanding, and still afraid.

The Wavemaster swallowed bile, unaffected by the foul taste. He opened his mouth to speak—and then he coughed and retched, though nothing came out of his mouth other than a sleek puff of breath. By the manner in which he wiped his mouth, though…

"What," Kazu rasped and croaked, "do you m-mean, _real_?"

"…See for yourself."

Kazu did not bother to see for himself, instead taking his word as is and weaving his fingers through the roots of his hair. His knees buckled beneath him and soon met chill stone floor; his teeth were gritted and his palms carefully covered his ears, though that did little to block out the chorus of moans that ranged from dull to desperate. An anguished growl emitted low in his throat and his hands slammed against the pavement. Moonstone distractedly paid no heed to the trembling Wavemaster lying a little ways from his feet, turning his head from side to side to catch a good glimpse of the…whatever they were.

"…There are many," Moonstone said with a rare touch of uncertainty, perhaps the most useless thing he'd ever said in his lifetime. His voice and steps were low in pitch and therefore he was adequately invisible, he deduced. They were blind. "…We need a Ryu Book to look up the status of their players."

Ryoko had not taken a step further into the corridor. She was as white as her dress and her will to perform any sort of walking was as flimsy as the underlying ruffles of her skirts.

Her throat was hoarse with disuse coupled with the screaming. Somehow, she found the strength to speak, and her determined words surprised even herself. "We have to help them," she said, voice shaky but with the resolute fervor that had pushed Kazu here and left him behind. "They—" Common sense returned. "—what are they!?" Strangled voice, throat clenching and unclenching. Ryoko wished Moonstone had the answers.

He didn't. "I don't know," Moonstone said after a lingering pause. He then tilted his head downward to look at Kazu, whose breathing was heavy and whose eyes were as wide as dishes. The Twin Blade was hesitant, but finally unsympathetic in gestures and expression, stalking past the Wavemaster to approach the Heavy Axe somewhat reproachfully. "Alert Kite."

"Can't we h-help them without calling anyone?"

The words came out of their own volition.

Moonstone looked at her, lips curled faintly downward. It was hardly a sign of disapproval; his expression would have been tons easier to read if not for that damned blindfold. Instantaneously, she knew the answer and hung her head in shame, putting her back to the Twin Blade in order to issue the message. She spoke in hushed tones, though she doubted Moonstone was incapable of hearing her. His hearing was rumored as magnified as compensation for his self-imposed handicap.

That rumor was, unfortunately, put to the test.

Moonstone's head jolted towards the cages, the motion giving off a mild air of alarm. Kazu had clambered to his feet (although he still was a potent mix of blue and gray) and was remaining out of arms' reach of the prisoners, though he was squinting and leaning slightly forward to catch a better look. He swallowed every now and then, desperation overtaking his usually placid expression.

Sharply, Moonstone said, "Kazu, get away from the cages."

Kazu obliged, briskly moving to the entrance to the corridor. He walked, apparently, more loudly than was tolerable, and there was a new chorus of groans. A hand shot out and tangled itself in his sleeve, long, chipped and colorless nails tearing at the cloth. Kazu barely managed to sustain a yelp as he wrenched his arm free of its bestial grip and he dashed behind Moonstone.

"Are you done?" Moonstone inquired of Ryoko sharply.

"Yes," the Heavy Axe said absently. "'Kite? We found something at Delta: Bursting Passed Over Aqua Field. They're…they're characters, but not quite. They…um… I can't really… Look, I think it'd be better if you came here yourself. Someone d-did something to them…no faces…it's horrible. W-we could check it out again later, b-but what if they're gone…?'" She stopped reciting her message and blinked, eyes refocusing. "S-should I add anything else?"

"Yes. …Kazu will be there shortly to report our findings."

She glanced over her shoulder at Moonstone in utter confusion. "What about us?"

A creaking, grinding sound filled the tight-knit hollows of the walls—walls that anyone would have assumed were simply two-dimensional graphics, a flat panel etched unto cyberspace for the mere purpose of prohibiting free movement. It was odd how players yearned for comprehensive and multidimensional worlds, and yet upon receiving them, never appreciated them.

Kazu was looking around like a frightened rabbit, and Ryoko's reaction was barely different; she squeaked quietly, but the sound was overridden by the combined efforts of the grinding and the ever-reverberating cacophony of wails. She looked as though she wanted to ask what was happening, but thought better of it upon realizing Moonstone, again, did not have the answers. She remained silent—probably finishing the recording.

"Kazu," Moonstone said slowly, "_go_."

Kazu nodded vigorously in acceptance of the demand, and fumbled with the ocarina dangling from his neck; a couple of rushed high notes, and then the Wavemaster departed in a shower of gold runes. Ryoko whirled on Moonstone, her still-damp hair matted and somewhat disheveled—it was almost unbecoming, considering her demeanor and so forth. Several bent-out-of-shape strands fell clean over the circlet that bound them in an orderly fashion; panic was wild in her sapphire eyes.

"U-um…" She inhaled sharply. "Why…aren't _we_ leaving…?"

Moonstone's bandana raised faintly, a twitch of the muscles in his forehead that she could immediately comprehend as a frown. "Because," Moonstone said simply, "it is unnecessary to send more than one person as a messenger."

She decided not to question it, and nodded, her lips twisted. The grinding sound continued, she realized as the recording ended, and she stepped forward on unsteady legs, holding out her hands and allowing her weapon to materialize; the hefty surface glimmered ominously like the weapon of an executioner. She was preparing for a fight, whereas Moonstone remained warily motionless and tense. He had not drawn his weapon, but he was nonetheless guarded, as per usual.

The sound of metal gears turning seemed to alert the Muted, and they grew…excited, to an extent, becoming more raucous and louder. They shifted and bumped into one another blindly, stumbling in their field of black with little regard for who or what they were making contact with; the guttural grunts reverberated in stone and steel chambers, and fleshy arms retracted from their place in-between the bars.

Stricken, Ryoko realized that the cage gates, once imbedded firmly in the floor, were rising.

"You," she choked, crossing her axe in a defensive position, "_knew_ this was going to happen!" Her mind reeled with outlandish conclusions, but he dismissed them all as he unsheathed his blades with a _shink_.

"I didn't," he said shortly but truthfully.

**BATTLE MODE ON**

"No," Ryoko whispered, quietly and hoarsely and _fearfully_. The Sprite Ocarina became inaccessible to her fingers, and the axe she once wielded with a learned grace was now seemed to dangle precariously in her hands, but she stilled when Moonstone tilted his head to glance at her, lips straightened and slanted in a manner that was a poor attempt reassuring. "We—we have to _fight them_!? We can't! They're players—they're _people_! Moonstone, no! I can't! I _won't_!"

His stared impassively as three (four, five, seven) Muted wriggled beneath the half-open gates somehow, jerky limbs twisting in unnatural manners and stitched-up faces turning this way and that. In a twisted way, they were free. In a logical way, they were not.

"Are they being controlled!? Why would they attack us!?" Ryoko demanded desperately, resisting the sudden urge to cower and hide behind Moonstone—that, or make a run for it.

"Maybe they're hungry," he replied flatly. She didn't have much time to ponder as to whether or not he was joking, but she gawped at him for a good second.

"That's impossible!" Ryoko whisper-screamed lamely.

Moonstone paced further into the room, not quite lost in the swarm of ashen, hairless people clad in tattered robes and dented armor; he stood a good head or two above most, not to mention his peculiarly long silver bangs managed to jut out above the rest. His steps were quiet, and she did not know how he slipped amongst them undetected until a sudden movement tipped her off—he wasn't _touching_ any of them, per se. And when he leapt up and _adhered_ himself to the ceiling, utilizing the Sublimers and inhuman strength…

The metal of his blades grated noisily against the stone ceilings, and Ryoko winced as the crowd rippled, heads upturning to meet the sound. Moonstone's bandana shifted and very nearly fell; he was deathly still as the gates clicked into place and out of sight.

A message dinged in her ear.

_"Someone can see us."_ It was from Moonstone. _"Or they were expecting us."_

The former was plausible. The latter was a concept Ryoko had no wish to consider; she felt _hunted_ in every sense of the word, and it was a sinking feeling in her stomach that prompted her to glance over her shoulder in a spare second of paranoia. The Muted stared impassively, flitted their indented fleshy heads from side to side. Maybe they _were_ hungry. The concept made her shudder.

_"…Stay still."_

Though she hadn't been moving much at all in the first place, she remained still, axe at the ready and prepared to whack off a good deal of limbs if it came to that. Alright, so she wasn't really _psychologically_ prepared, but self-preservation, it seemed, had recently become something important to her, a notion that before today had been dismissed along with the threat of Morganna.

Moonstone shifted, warranting Ryoko's timid attentions again; her foot moved backwards of its own accord—_quietly_—as he turned his head this way and that, and then had the nerve to adjust the piece of red-orange cloth around his eyes before his weapons disappeared in a rush of lights like fireflies and he very nearly plummeted unto the heads of the fumbling crowd—the Muted were moving, still searching for the source of the earlier noise, pushing each other aside in a primitive frenzy—

Moonstone was a Twin Blade known for his obscenely high statistics and for being in the same party as Balmung of the Azure Sky—and managing _not_ to respect him very publicly or vehemently at all. He was also often in the company of Kite, though the bearer of the Bracelet was a hero amongst only the most knowledgeable circles; he was thrice seen performing physically impossible acrobatic maneuvers, and stranger yet he always had a _reason_ for performing them, be it avoiding an irate Gardenia or…anything else. He never wasted a word or a movement, and Rachel oft suspected he would have his own fan club soon if he wasn't careful.

Ryoko was treated to witnessing one of his physically impossible acrobatic maneuvers, and she watched bewildered as he pushed off the ceiling _sideways_, and managed to grab hold of the bit of wall that jutted downward where the cages would drop to imprison the prisoners; effortlessly he hoisted himself unto the ceiling of the prison cell and remained there, weaponless and wedged in a corner.

She idly wondered if Kite, also a Twin Blade, was capable of such feats. She almost smiled (at a most inopportune moment) when she recalled that Kite never tried because BlackRose always laughed at him.

_Now's not the time!_

_"Moonstone-san,"_ she whispered, _"w-what—do you have any ideas?"_

_"There are 26," _he noted. _"The crowd is dispersing."_

Sure enough, some had managed to maneuver into—thankfully—the hallways that led deeper into the dungeons. None thus far had approached Ryoko; some had even meandered back into the cages, and she felt heartbreaking pity for their dulled senses.

And then, quite suddenly, a pair of teeth clamped onto her wrist.

She wouldn't have noticed, technically, until the sharp pain raced up and down her forearm—but that wasn't supposed to…?

Ryoko yelped shrilly and yanked her arm away, hefting the Thunder Dad and swinging it wildly at what she supposed was a Wavemaster in whatever ghosts of a life it once possessed. The level 53 axe created a wide gash like a straightened eyebrow across its shoulder, tearing through a fold of yellow cloth before stopping just above what would've been the hip bone, and she shrieked again because she couldn't believe what she'd just done—

Like interwoven threads pulled at the seams, the lightly tanned skin was coming together again, piece by piece.

(A graphical marvel well worth dwelling on, had this been basically any other circumstance.)

She cried out and lashed out at it again, several times, wielding the weapon with strength that didn't match her demeanor; gashes, barely deep, crisscrossed the Muted's chest and arms and sleeves and his (her?) robes were falling apart. It did not cease, and raised its arms to grab hold of her axe, and it lunged at her shoulder, the staples on its mouth stretching until the skin tore and the staples hung—its teeth, they were _sharp_ and they _hurt_—

Moonstone appeared suddenly, an easy roundhouse kick knocking the Muted back and bowling over some of its more alert counterparts. "Go," he ordered, and in a sequence of animatedly fast movements her weapon was gone and she was running, lifting her skirts in habit. She almost stopped when her mind traveled back to Moonstone and his well-being; she skidded to a halt on the stone floors, her heels grating against the cobbles. Her eyes were drawn to the shadowy corridor from whence she just turned, and she wondered if she should have helped him. After all, he—and they were _people_, but people that could _regenerate_—

_"Ryoko,"_ Kite's voice whispered in her ear, concerned, but it fell just short of being frantic. _"Ryoko, are you there?"_

_"Yes,"_ she responded uncertainly, still analyzing the corridor and stepping forward; the closer she got, the more she could hear. Moonstone fought silently, so she wouldn't be able to see if he was okay…

_"That's a relief. Kazu has just arrived and told us what you've found."_ Kite paused, perhaps grimaced, and then he sighed in resignation. _"Is…anything going on?"_ He was somewhat jaded, she realized upon anxiously wondering why his concern wasn't as high as it could have been—_should have been_? She shook her head—now wasn't the time.

_"T-they're free,"_ she choked out through a closed mouth. _"They're t-trying to—"_ She inhaled, and then exhaled, shaking her head again. _"We're being attacked. I—Moonstone-san told me to run, but h-he needs…"_

_"If he tells you to run,"_ Kite said with an abrupt firmness, _"then run. Moonstone…"_ Another pause, and another sigh, more frustrated as though he was trying to gather his thoughts. _"…I'm going to message him. Give me a second, I—"_

Static.

_"Hello?"_ she said uncertainly. _"K-Kite? Can you hear—are you there? Kite? Kite…"_

The static buzzed in her ears until she gave up on the message altogether, and fixated her attention on the winding hall.

_Author's Notes: I am not happy with this chapter, nor am I happy with the delays. [Cringes] This chapter was hard to write, believe it or not. It has a crappy cliffhanger, too. And I'm unsure as to whether or not those lyrics are correct, but I checked about six sites and they all said different things, so..._

_The basic idea of this messaging system, a concept stolen from SIGN in the flashback where Crim gives Subaru his phone number, is that a recorded message can be sent to an entire party at once or one person at a time, like an IM. This way, no one can see if a person is sending or replying to a message; I…um…_

_It's canon, I swear! [Runs]_


End file.
